Self Conscious
by ChibiLovezx
Summary: After Spain's careless comment, Romano began becoming more and more aware of his faults. Will he be convinced otherwise before it's too late for him? FAIL SUMMARY. First Hetalia fic. Spamano, SpainxRomano, LovinoxAntonio and any other way you say it.
1. Prologue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** It's at the bottom~ ^^

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><p>"Romano! Oi, Romano! Mi tomate!" Spain was relentless in gaining his servant's attention. Unfortunately, Romano wasn't in the mood for Spain's child-like behavior tonight and wasn't responding to the Spaniard's attempts.<p>

Pouting in defeat, the personification of Spain crossed his arms and looked to the floor. Only for a minute though, because Spain wouldn't be Spain if he gave up on Romano so easily. Or rather at all.

"Hey Romano!" Spain exclaimed as his efforts began again. Romano let out a groan of annoyance and was tempted to chop his hand off instead of the tomatoes. "Qué estás haciendo?"

"I've said it before you idiot, either speak damn Italian or English cause I have no idea what you're saying bastard!" Romano shouted with a tighter grip of the knife. However, one look at the pout Spain had on his face (again) and he melt like the pushover he is, not that he'd ever admit it. "I'm making a salad." Romano grumbled under his breath as a light blush dusted across his cheeks and nose."

"Un ensalada?" Spain asked with an adorable tilt of his head, not the Romano thought so . . . "Porque?" Romano didn't reply, seeing as he didn't know what was being asked. "Why are you making un ensalada?" Spain rephrased, though he couldn't help but let a little bit of Spanish slip in.

"It's something America was trying to eat to be healthy." Romano mumbled under his breath. Sure enough, America was amazingly eating a salad at the last World Conference, but only because England was practically shoving the greens down his throat.

"Really? Why are you trying to eat healthy?" Spain asked curiously. Romano blushed in what seemed to be anger (but really who would know with the Southern Italian).

"N-none of your damn pomodoro bastardo business!" Romano shouted out in embarrassment, stringing as many curses together as he can. He turned back around sharply and resumed chopping the vegetables with a renewed fire.

"Aw!" Spain whined as he wrapped his arms around Romano's waist from behind and rest his chin on the angry Italian's right shoulder. Rubbing his cheek against Romano in a way that can only be described as cat-like, the Spaniard cooed over his colony. "You look so adorable Romanito! Como un pequeño tomato! Like a little tomato!" Spain cried, adding the translation of his first sentence knowing full well that the Italian would yell at him otherwise.

Romano paused in chopping the healthy delicacies and twitched his left eye in annoyance. The bright red blushed that covered his face (_did_ make him look like a tomato) seemed to multiply in color, if that was even possible. He gritted his teeth and only said two words in reply before thonking Spain on the head and walking away.

"Damn bastard!"

(Later that night)

Romano was lying down of his back staring at his room's ceiling. Blinking in the darkness, he turned his head to the window. Sunrise hasn't begun yet. It's still midnight or so. Turning back to the ceiling, he scowled in deep thought. _'Damn Spain'_ Romano thought to himself as he recalled the last World Conference. Lifting his shirt, he poked his stomach and scowled deeper as it jiggled.

"Futtuto bastardo!" Romano shouted out in anger. "He has absolutely no right to comment on Feliciano's weight and compared it to mine!" And with that last comment and curse, Romano turn on his side furiously and fruitlessly tried to sleep.

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><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong> This is my first ever Spamano fic. Was originally going to be a one-shot but I changed my mind . . . Anyways, reviews make me happy ^^ And this is simply the prologue.

Oh, and Futtuto means fucking. At least that's what Google translator says. And bastardo is kind of obvious: bastard. And pomodoro is tomato.


	2. This Idiot

**AUTHOR****'****S ****NOTE: **Okay, my little sister's been bugging me to update all my fics so I decided to make that me goal for the rest of the year!

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><p>"Romanito~! Breakfast time~!" Romano woke up to what he dubbed to be the most annoying voice on Earth. Although the ends of his mouth quirked upwards as the smell of breakfast floated upstairs and into his room.<p>

Opening his eyes slowly, Romano groaned as the idea of leaving his bed. But his stomach demanded food. Even though every fiber in his being told the young southern half of Italy not to, Romano kicked off his covers and dragged himself downstairs. Halfway down the stairs Romano suddenly realized what Spain was cooking. Rushing downstairs and into the kitchen, Romano ran towards the plate of food happily.

"Tomato Omelets!" Romano cried out in a rare show of happiness in front of Spain. Snatching the plate and fork from the laughing Spain, Romano seated himself at the table and began to dig in.

"You know Romanito, if I'd known you liked my cooking that much I'd make you breakfast every day!" Spain commented happily, feeling accomplished that the younger country enjoyed his cooking. Romano froze in mid-bite and turned a rather bright shade of red.

"I-I don't like your cooking bastardo!" Romano shouted in embarrassment. "I like Tomato Omelets! Anyone could cook it and I'd like it!" Romano made up, eager for an excuse to get out of the fact that he complimented Spain. Truth is though; if anyone else had made the omelet Romano would've spat out the omelet in a few seconds, along with some insults and curses thrown in there.

"Whatever you say~" Spain answered back as he turned back to the frying pan, ready to make more omelets. "Do you want another one Roma~?" Spain asked cheerily. Romano opened his mouth to say yes but was aware of the fact that he pants seemed smaller around his waistband than usual.

"Uh." Romano cleared his throat and put his fork down. "I'm not really hungry anymore." Spain turned around in confusion. Romano never turned down an offer for more food.

"Really?" Spain asked as he blinked. "But I made more for you . . ." Romano suddenly felt anger rush in. Standing up from his seat so fast the seat fell backwards, Romano glared at the Spanish country.

"What? You think just because I'm a bit bigger than others you think I'll eat everything?" Spain stared at Romano with wide eyes. Romano has always yelled at him yes, but he was never this serious. No sign of blush adored Romano's cheeks, but that's what always told Spain that Romano never means it. "You know what? Screw you bastardo! And your food!" With that last hurtful comment, Romano flung the plate he was eating from not even a few seconds ago and ran upstairs.

Spain was struck dumb. Usually, he'd brush off Romano's insults with a cheerful smile. But it seems as though Romano means it this time. And Spain was at a lost as to what to do. Placing the frying pan back on top the stove and turning the fire off, Spain walked upstairs slowly. Coming to a stop in front of the younger nation's door, Spain tapped the front of his door softly with his knuckles.

"Ro-Romanito . . ." Spain called out a bit nervously. "Can I speak to you?" When Spain received no reply, he began getting worried. "Roma?" Opening the door slowly so Romano can tell him if he didn't want the older nation in his room, Spain peeked in the room. The bed was messy, Romano's clothes were strewn on the floor, but there was no sign of Romano anywhere.

Frowning in confusion, Spain closed the door again and walked down the hall. Though he didn't find Romano on his first try, Spain was intent on speaking with Romano. What had he done that made his Romanito snap at him so badly? Maybe he didn't pay him enough attention . . .

"Romanito!" Spain called out as he walked through the hallways of his manor, searching for the single-curled haired resident. "Adonde estas? Where are you?" Spain asked, adding the translation at the end knowing that Romano wouldn't understand him if he didn't.

After a few minutes of walking through the hallways aimlessly and checking every room that came into sight, Spain heaved a heavy sigh and turned back. There's no point in searching for someone who doesn't want to be found. Twisting the knob to his room, Spain froze as the sound of very familiar grumbling reached his ears.

"Stupid tomato bastardo." Spain brightened up, even though he was being insulted. Throwing the door open, Spain ran towards Romano, who was on his bed curled up in a ball and jumped in fright as the door slammed open. Landing on the bed in front of the startled Romano, Spain tackled the younger nation in what he considered to be a hug. Romano considered a crime against everything he believed in.

"Romanito!" Spain cried out. "I thought you left the house!" Spain began crying overdramatically like he does. Romano sighed and rolled his eyes.

What is he going to do with this idiot?

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><p><strong>AUTHOR<strong>**'****S ****NOTE:** Yeah the ending's rushed. I'm trying to update all my fics quickly. So review~!


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